


there are many names in history (but none of them are ours)

by Khio



Series: these tornadoes are for you (dream smp stories) [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 4k of repetition and parallels and plotty character study enjoy, Ambiguity, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Moral Ambiguity, Non-Linear Narrative, set post-schlatt election, wilbur and tommy are canonical bamfs omg, wow another one for those tags huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26669281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khio/pseuds/Khio
Summary: Here's how L’manberg falls:Two figures run into the woods and never return. The nation celebrates the void they left behind. The people gather and plot and a war brews in the space between them.(Hey. Hey! Listen to me! We are not welcome in the land of DreamSMP. We are not welcome in L’Manberg. We have nowhere to go, alright? We have no home, no tools, no food, no friends, nothing! We have, we- we only have each other, okay? I can’t- I can’t lose you again, man, we’re- we’re all that’s left.).Or: History is written by its victors. Who's to say they're in the right?
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, f is for friends who live in exile together
Series: these tornadoes are for you (dream smp stories) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973293
Comments: 67
Kudos: 419





	there are many names in history (but none of them are ours)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WreakingHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/gifts), [Spaghettoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spaghettoi/gifts).



> posting this at a rather weird time for me, from a rather weird timezone too, but ,,, , listen i just got super hyped from the election stream just like everyone else so heres a little thing i made, hope yall enjoy :D
> 
> title and section headers from these [wonderful](http://sporkpress.com/5_1/pieces/Siken.html) [poems](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/22/little-beast-crush-by-richard-siken/) by Richard Siken, I'm making it my life's work to expose his works to as many ppl as possible heehee
> 
> <3 u all

**X.**

**Imagine that the world is made out of love. Now imagine that it isn't.**

Here’s how L’manberg falls:

Not with the flag burning, not with the walls tearing down, not with betrayal and civil unrest and swords held to necks and hands gripping around shoulders and the call of a lost leader.

Not with the rise of a dictator and his ever-willing puppets, not with the exile of its two figureheads, not with treason and a revolution and a brewing war and the call of a lost soldier.

L’manberg falls, not as its borders crumble and change, not as history is desecrated with the promise of a better future, not as its buildings and its trees and its people are broken and burnt.

L’manberg falls the moment it gained independence.

A nation built on the foundation of war is destined to fall the moment the sword is sheathed.

(It’s nothing personal _, Schlatt says, grinning as the stage burns behind him. All the pieces are falling exactly, perfectly, predictably into place. They won’t be having another election for a long time._

_Beside him, Quackity looks upon the flames and ignores the way his fist tightens. The heat flares and licks at his cheeks and he shivers at the cold nevertheless. A part of him, full of pride and vengeance and selfishness, assures him he made the right choice. The rest of him, stricken with fear, is silent._ )

* * *

**IX.**

**Fact is, the world is full of things that are trying to kill you.**

Here’s how L’manberg falls, in the order that it happens:

Fundy burns the flag.

Schlatt renames the country.

Schlatt orders his lackeys to tear down the walls.

Schlatt exiles Tommy and Wilbur from the nation they founded.

Wilbur walks down the stage knowing he will never stand upon it again.

Quackity vows to give all his votes to Schlatt’s one-man party.

Schlatt betrays the people who brought him back onto the server.

Tommy tries to coerce votes out of the server’s members.

Quackity stands up to corruption at the last possible second.

Wilbur starts an election with his head held high and a sure smile etched on his lips.

The nation stagnates as power loses its meaning.

L’manberg wins the war.

Tommy secures independence with a handshake and the passing of two discs.

Here’s how L’manberg falls: not with the rise of their new emperor, but as it wins the war for its independence. As its rulers bit off more than they expected to chew and paid the price for it when their jaws are locked open with the turn of events.

(They were the ones who sacrificed the most for the country _, Niki screams, hands shaking the bars around her uselessly, fire spitting out her mouth as she curses out who she thought was supposed to be her best friend,_ you will not get away with this!

_Fundy holds a torch to the flag and grimaces at Niki. Not everyone will understand, not everyone will forget, not everyone will forgive. Not everyone dared to stand up to his father and dream as large as he did. So when he burns the flag, he tries not to think why it comes as a comfort._ )

* * *

**VIII.**

**If I were you, I'd stay awake, ever vigilant and terrified.**

Here’s how L’manberg falls: not with a bang, or a whisper, but the fear that festers deep beneath the nation.

In L’manberg, if you dig up the ground at the right spots, you’d still find blocks of TNT left inactive from the war. You’d find hollowed out holes where the soil ruptured with fire and the world turned on its head, tipping the war in favour of the Dream SMP once and for all. You’d find a narrow manhole leading to a burrow where four people once fled and in doing so, sealed their place in history’s losing side.

In L’manberg, if you tear down a wall of dirt in the right hill, you’d find the entrance to a dark tunnel. As you keep walking down that tunnel, you’d find a room. In that room, there are five empty chests, each labelled the names of the original members. A button rests on the floor of the room, and if you press it, you’ll hear the sound of pistons and you’ll see three secret passageways opening up. If you listen hard enough, you’ll hear a boy crying for his traitorous friend. The chest labelled “Wilbur” is forever left opened, a dark patch of red forever staining its sign.

In L’manberg, if you step into the run-down van in the heart of the nation, you’ll find an item frame devoid of any item to display. You’ll find dirt coating the walls, murky water dripping down a corner, and you’ll hear the floor creak dangerously every time you take a step. You’ll see rows of empty brewing stands, but none of them will work — they’re broken now, the only thing they’ll brew is dust. The vehicle is supposed to have a name, but that, too, is lost forever. Fixing the van won’t do any good; it’s been long abandoned by its creators.

In Manberg, you’ll find none of these.

Here’s how L’manberg falls: Schlatt sneers at his subjects and orders them to flatten historic land to build an empire on top of it. Fear festers, and his subjects comply.

(Yes, Schlatt _, Tubbo mutters, feeling miles away from his body as his vision narrows at a pair of twin signs. He feels the emperor’s hand clawing into his shoulder, and he raises his pickaxe up like a sword._

_Eret tries to shield this one piece of history with his body; he has to save something,_ anything _. Months of cumulated guilt drives him to this very moment, this very decision, the realisation that he’s powerless to stop the change erupting all around him. He’s shoved aside and the sign is broken, and in that moment he realises how it feels like to be on the other side of betrayal._ )

* * *

**VII.**

**History repeats itself.**

**Somebody says this.**

Here’s how L’manberg falls: perhaps it was never allowed to breathe in the first place.

The problem with rulers is that they are never sated. Eret wants to be revered everywhere he goes. Dream wants leverage to hold over people’s heads. Wilbur wants to be respected, to be obeyed. Schlatt wants power and land and he wants to be _more_.

The problem with commanders is that they cannot have total control. Dream cannot control the destruction spiralling out his own hands. Wilbur cannot control the fury pooling deep within his heart. Schlatt cannot control the underground whispers happening right beneath his nose.

The problem with generals is that they will never rest as long as duty calls for it. Dream will never sleep for more than four hours at a time and he will never stop the urge to check behind his shoulder. Wilbur will never stop letting his eyes wander along the tree-line, looking for moving shadows, and he will never forget the days when his back wasn’t always so tense.

The problem with leaders is that sometimes it’s more freeing without all the burden.

Wilbur makes a new home out of a hastily-dug cave and a part of him is glad that Tommy has stopped calling him Mr President.

If he closes his eyes and lets his mind wander back far enough, he can almost feel everything crumbling around him. He’s never going to forget all the days spent hovering above a world he’s trapped hundreds inside. All the strings of the world under his fingertips. All the subjects he’s forced onto their knees with little regard for their lives. All his lab rats, his birds, his moles, all the people he’s dubbed _lesser_ than him, and him laughing over their pleas for food and shelter.

If he closes his eyes and lets his mind wander back then, maybe he understands why he — mad with power and on the edge of a cliff he won’t return from — was worth saving. Why his friends worked as hard as they did to pull him back and bring him home. Because at the end, he repaid them and he gave them a sanctuary and a reason to unite. But it wasn’t enough, was it? All he does is repeat history until the day the cycle collapses.

If he closes his eyes and lets his mind wander back to that dark time, he starts to realise why Schlatt took such joy in exiling him. Put him in his place, he did. Humbled him when his ego threatened to turn back into that crippling god complex. Part of him is grateful.

(I’m on your side, I can’t interfere directly but I want to help _, Dream whispers, voice barely audible between the waves furiously crashing into the rocks below. He holds out a shimmering golden apple, a peace offering, maybe, to an old friend and an even older enemy._

_Technoblade helps the rebellion and counts down the seconds until his friends seize back power over Manberg. He’s a man of his word; he won’t stop until he brings down the government. Whoever it is that spearheads the administration doesn’t concern him. Even friends._ Especially _friends._ )

* * *

**VI.**

**Everyone is at cross-purposes and everyone is to blame.**

Here’s how L’manberg falls:

Schlatt stands behind the glass walls of the White House and smiles over a grateful nation.

Quackity clasps his hands, feigns utter loyalty and vows to keep the new emperor in check.

Niki slumps against iron bars and her tears come out hot and furiously righteous.

Fundy doesn’t miss the flag and he doesn’t miss his walls and he _does not_ miss his father.

Tubbo reverts back to his habit of tailing someone but now that someone is the wrong person.

Eret finds himself at yet another impasse and hopes to the Sky Gods that his side is the right one.

Dream helps the estranged leaders of a country he once destroyed and maybe he made the right choice.

Technoblade hears the clock ticking and doesn’t want to think about what the end spells for him.

Here's how L’manberg falls:

Two figures run into the woods and never return. The nation celebrates the void they left behind. The people gather and plot and a war brews in the space between them.

( _Wilbur, what about your son? He- he just betrayed you- what are you going to do?_

_I know you trust him. He’s your Tubbo! Tubbo in a box! Remember that? …Tommy?_

~~_My son. He’s dead to me._ ~~

~~_He…he turned so quickly._ ~~

_Hey. Hey! Listen to me! We are not welcome in the land of DreamSMP. We are not welcome in L’Manberg. We have nowhere to go, alright? We have no home, no tools, no food, no friends, nothing! We have, we- we only have each other, okay? I can’t- I can’t lose you again, man, we’re- we’re all that’s left._ )

* * *

**V.**

**In language, the teller decides.**

Here’s how it all started:

Tommy screams. He always does. He challenges Dream and he seals his fate and he dies to an arrow that maybe he didn’t want to dodge.

Wilbur screams. He didn’t mean to. He counts the duel down and he drops to his knees beside Tommy’s body and wonders whether it was worth it at all.

Tommy dies. The universe turns and Dream takes the discs in exchange for L’Manberg’s independence. It’s all he ever wanted.

Wilbur lives. The universe turns and he’s celebrating but there’s an empty space in his chest that hurts every time he thinks. It’s all he ever hated.

* * *

**IV.**

**There is no way to win.**

**Everyone is hungry and the weak get tricked and do not survive.**

Here’s what Wilbur learns, living on the run with Tommy Innit:

Tommy is patient. His hotheaded nature might suggest otherwise, but he’s very good at bidding his time and looking for the perfect opportunity to strike. He’s not always one for manual labour, but the sewer tunnel system that connects every building in the server didn’t build itself. Wilbur sees it clearly in the way he never seems to mind the long trek it takes them to journey back and forth between Pogtopia and the Dream SMP.

Tommy is quiet. He tries to keep the atmosphere light with the occasional shouting match but after some time, he can’t stand the way his voice echoes through the ravine. He’ll be talking about something, and then the light in his eyes would dim and he’d falter, and Wilbur knows it’s time for him to take over the conversation. It’s not the silence that bothers him, mostly, it’s the way that Tommy’s voice grows softer and softer as the days pass.

Tommy makes good decisions. He’s turned into their mediator: the straight man in their ragtag operation. Months of living under the pressure of being a war hero does that to a person, Wilbur thinks, months of living in a world perpetually wrecked by war forced this boy to grow into a man. He’s smart, but he knows not to show it and maybe that’s his strongest suit. Ask anyone and they’ll fall into the same trap of underestimating Tommy Innit; Wilbur should know, he’s made that same mistake once.

Tommy is brave. Not ‘throwing a water bucket off a cliff and jumping off after it’ brave, or even ‘walking headfirst into war without the slightest inkling of self preservation’ brave. No, his true bravery shows in all the little things he does without thinking, all the fear he stamps out from pure instinct. It comes through in the way he clenches his jaw as he vaults up a skeletal horse, ready to ride into enemy lines without armour or weapons. It comes through in the way he shoves back against Schlatt when the latter spits an insult out at Tubbo. It came through in the way his hand trembled around a bow and yet he still marched his ten paces without hesitation.

Tommy is sad. This, first and foremost, is important. This, first and foremost, is painful to watch happen. This, first and foremost…shouldn’t have happened in the first place. It’s not like he likes to share his feelings, but it still comes through in everything he does, and everything he _doesn’t_ do. Every rash mistake he hesitates to make, every scathing word he bites his tongue on, every swing of his sword he doesn’t take. It comes through every time he quietly slips a music disc into the jukebox and Wilbur pretends not to hear him cry.

The world turns and people change and nothing makes sense anymore, but some things are still painfully familiar.

* * *

**III.**

**Here, starting so late in the story, the magic sounds like propaganda.**

Here’s what Tommy learns, living on the run with Wilbur Soot:

Wilbur is impatient. His calm demeanour might suggest otherwise, but he’s not very good at keeping calm and waiting. It’s always ‘ _do it now!_ ’ or ‘ _stop it now!_ ’ with him. The muscle under his eye twitches every time he loses patience and here are the three times Tommy remembers it happening. Once when he counted down the duel. Once when Schlatt took his sweet time announcing their exile. Once when he watched the flag burn.

Wilbur is loud. He’s loud in everything but volume. He’s always been a tall figure, but when he straightens his back and tips his chin up and looks down the length of his nose, it’s impossible not to feel dwarfed by his imposing presence. He’s a man of few words, but he knows exactly _how_ to talk, how to stroll into a conversation and have the world bend around him. It’s not that Tommy’s afraid of him, it’s just that feeling that he’ll soon grow too big for his boots. It happened once, who’s to say it won’t happen again?

Wilbur is a fast thinker. He’s not very fast on his feet, he’s not very good at calculating exactly where to swing a sword, he’s not very good at cushioning his impending death with a bucket of water. But the only reason Tommy hasn’t died since Schlatt’s inauguration was because Wilbur expected this very outcome and yanked him away from the chair that an arrow dug into seconds later. Ask anyone and they’ll say Wilbur is all bark and no bite, but if there’s one thing Tommy knows about Wilbur, it’s that his bark bites as painfully and as quickly too.

Wilbur is scared. That much is obvious. He doesn’t hide behind his men in battle and he doesn’t send them off to wars while lounging behind friendly territory and he doesn’t demand they build a maximum-security base. No, this fear comes through in the way he fusses over every chink in Tommy’s armour. It comes through in the way he keeps their chests stocked with food and has contingency plans stacked on top of contingency plans. It comes through in the way Schlatt sneers at him and his shoulders hunch up just a little bit, in the way his mouth shuts and his fingers start inching towards invisible strings.

Wilbur is angry. This, first and foremost, is worrying. This, first and foremost, is terrifying to watch happen. This, first and foremost…should have happened way sooner. He’s an open book, easy to read for those who know how to decipher his language, but no one really saw it coming until he’s training with Technoblade and he’s snarling as he bashes his sword against Techno’s shield until it splinters and shatters. Until he sneers back at Schlatt and Tommy’s reminded that this is the same man who had a taste of the Sky Gods’ power.

The world turns and people change and nothing makes sense anymore, but some things are too painfully foreign.

* * *

**II.**

**The Dali Lama says we are born in bliss and Jesus says we are born in sin.**

**Who are you going to believe?**

Tommy is there, crouching atop the tallest hill that overlooks Manberg, face half-silhouetted by the light of Manberg. Shrouded by the spruce forest that shields him out of enemy view. Dressed in humble clothing, the kind of garb that he never would’ve been caught dead wearing, but still he manages to look good in a dirty harness and a bloodstained shirt.

Tubbo almost doesn’t recognise Tommy from the stony expression he’s wearing, the careful hunch of his shoulders, the grown-out fringe that hides his eyes. He almost doesn’t recognise his friend when his silent approach is met with hostility on the other end, as Tommy’s head jerks up and he leaps to a defensive stance, one hand already holding his axe up.

He’s gotten better with an axe, Tubbo notes detachedly. His grip and footing say it all, not to mention the way his hand had fallen so instinctively around its sheathed handle. What bothers him the most is the second of distrust that flashes past Tommy's eyes even after recognition has settled in.

“Coulda knocked next time instead of scaring me like that,” Tommy says after a tense moment, lowering his weapon but not holstering it away just yet. He’s keeping his face neutral. Expressionless. He’s never been an easy read — even to his friends, even to Tubbo — but here, now, he's not even the slightest bit sure if he’s about to send him back to his bed.

Tubbo gestures around himself. “Not exactly a door to knock anywhere around, you know.” When Tommy scoffs and rolls his eyes, he grows just a little braver with his words. “Ah, yeah, lemme just- craft a door real quick, yep, cut down a tree-“

“What-“

“Hang on, yeah, can I borrow that axe real quick-“

“No, what the hell-?”

“Yep, yeah, you got a crafting table anywhere or should I make that too-“

The laugh that tears its way out of Tommy’s throat doesn’t feel very intentional, but Tubbo counts it as a win anyway when Tommy sheathes his axe and returns his shield to his back. “Jesus christ, you’re so fuckin’ annoying.”

Tubbo snickers along and for a moment, they’re both- they, they…for a moment, he thinks he can forget about the green tie around his neck. For a moment, he thinks Tommy can forget about the star-shaped scar right above his heart. For a moment, he thinks that the two of them are back in a world a little ways away, a lifetime away, a memory away where they were just two boys having fun scamming people off a humble little bay.

For a moment, Tubbo can ignore the ugly thing lodged deep in his belly, that sense of worry that things will never go back to normal, the primal fear of change he's sure everyone’s feeling right now but only some are brave enough to defy.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, shoving his hands deep into the pocket of his business suit. It’s not as thick as the revolutionary suit, and soon he find himself shivering at the night air. “Force of habit, I…yeah. Sorry.”

Tommy’s laughter dies down and that terrible stony expression is back in place. “I don’t know what’s still keeping you here, Tubbo,” he says. “I mean, we- Niki’s been with us for a while now and Wilbur’s just let Eret in so…I don’t know why you’re still playing spy for us, big man.”

Tubbo nods. It’s not like he doesn’t know any of this. It’s not like he doesn’t want to join Pogtopia, not like he hasn’t been waiting since the election. It’s just…

“I don’t know either, man,” he mutters. His shoulder slumps down and it’s not like he can do anything about it, but Tommy notices anyway. “I’m just…I don’t think it’s the right time? Schlatt- he might suspect something if I go now, and…and I don’t want to do that and ruin all your plans or something.”

A pause.

And then, quieter, more hesitantly, “I don’t know if you guys want me back, either…”

Tommy shoots him such a fierce look, his eyes so full of emotion that it takes Tubbo aback and almost convinces him that he's _wrong_. “You know that’s not true, man, you _know_ it’s not.”

Tubbo feels like shrinking into himself. It’s a wonder he hasn’t scurried away from the intensity of Tommy’s presence. The sheer volume of words he speaks by simply standing there and staring boldly at him. It would be suffocating if it isn’t so comforting.

“I- no, I…but Wilbur, he…I don’t know, I need- I…” Tubbo ducks his head. “I’m sorry. I need to think, I need time, maybe. But I’m- I’m always going to be on your side.”

“I know, yeah.” Tommy’s lip twitches upward. “Yeah. Just keep what I said in mind, okay?”

He waits until Tubbo finds it in himself to nod as surely as he can, then gives him a half-shrug — too nonchalantly for the situation he’s in — and brushes a gloved hand through his own hair. Shadows fall over his face, over his eyes, brushing the edges of the upward tilt of his lips. Once proud, twice a ghost. Every bit a relic of the past, a lost boy in all but name. The nation can bury his memory all they want but they will never forget the tall figure watching over them from the hills surrounding their walls.

“If you change your mind anytime soon, you know where to find me, yeah?” he says, voice barely a murmur. He sends a small, knowing smile Tubbo's way, and he's suddenly suppressing the urge to reach forward and pull him into a hug. For a moment, Tommy looks like he wants the same thing, too.

But that moment disappears as quickly as it came. Tommy stands straighter, waves, and then he’s gone, disappeared back into the silhouetted foliage where he came from before Tubbo can open his mouth to answer. The only sign that he was ever here being the near-silent shuffle of fallen leaves and the faint smell of fire, of smoke, of ashes.

Of soot.

* * *

**I.**

**When someone is trying to ditch you, kill you, never go back.**

Here’s how it all ends: Manberg goes up in flames.

Tommy Innit started the fire and Wilbur Soot is there to watch the whole thing burn.

* * *

** **

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading !!! :D <3 comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, they make my writer brain go brr motivation brr inspiration brr and pump out more works! love u all and ill see u in the next [archive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25290751) update i promise,
> 
> gift list! pogchamp
> 
> for hoke, as per usual: i'm just giving u these works to up that gift number lmao i hope ur proud of me for working on side project no. 15 instead of continuing my ongoing works
> 
> for ghet: hey mamas <3 i heard u like poetry so i went feral and pulled another siken but not really
> 
> <3


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